


When These Walls Fall

by botherd



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Community: femslash10, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-02
Updated: 2010-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-11 15:38:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/botherd/pseuds/botherd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>It doesn't take long for Cara to pinpoint her problem: she needs a mission, some direction in life. She's not made for staying in one place.</em> (Spoilers for 2x22, Tears.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	When These Walls Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://lyssie.livejournal.com/profile)[**lyssie**](http://lyssie.livejournal.com/) as part of [](http://community.livejournal.com/femslash10/profile)[**femslash10**](http://community.livejournal.com/d=femslash10/).

After the veil is mended, they part ways.

It's a strange time, and Cara feels like she's missed something; Richard and Kahlan were once inseparable, but it's not long after they've saved the world that Richard and Zedd leave to reconnect with Jennsen, while Kahlan takes up her place as Mother Confessor in Aydindril. Cara, having no place in particular to go, accompanies Kahlan.

The first week in Aydindril Cara ends up spending a lot of time in Ambrosio's tavern, the place that Zedd recommended. The food is good and the barmaid easy on the eye, and once word gets out that Cara is personal friends with the Mother Confessor and helped her and the Seeker to seal the veil to the Underworld, Ambrosio himself offers Cara all the ale she can drink on the house.

The offer is almost dangerous. As a Mord'Sith she was used to austerity; as a companion to Richard and Kahlan she was used to worse--surviving on whatever they could kill or scavenge. Excess is new to her, and intoxicating, but she hasn't forgotten the discipline that was drilled into her so she's careful not to go overboard.

The other patrons leave her alone for the most part, and Cara makes no effort to mingle aside from occasionally exchanging a few words with the barmaid. Cara is technically recognised as a hero, but not treated as one; fear and suspicion of the Mord'Sith still run rife, and people are sceptical of the idea that someone can change. She hears mutterings when the night grows late and people are too drunk to be discreet: if she'd really changed she wouldn't still wear those clothes, wouldn't carry those agiels. A popular theory is that she's been brought to Aydindril so the Mother Confessor can keep a close eye on her. Apparently no one has noticed that since Cara got here, Kahlan has barely had five minutes to spare for her. She's been so busy re-establishing order to the Council that all Cara's had from Kahlan are snatched bits of conversation and apologies.

Cara doesn't care about the talk; when you've spent weeks of your life enduring imprisonment and torture, and inflicting the same, idle gossip barely registers. But then one kid takes it past gossip, and things get messy.

All evening he's been glaring at her from across the room, as mildly irritating as a fly. He's barely out of boyhood, carrying that arrogance that only young men have, and he has the absolute stupidity to actually approach Cara.

"You have something to say to me?" she asks coolly, leaning back in her chair and surveying him. He isn't carrying any weapons, and he'd have to lean across her to grab the bottle on her table and use that. He'd be foolish to start anything.

"The Mord'Sith killed my parents," he spits, loud enough for the whole bar to hear. No one bothers pretending they're not listening.

"I hear that a lot," Cara says. "Listen, boy, you don't want to fight me."

"Yeah? Maybe I do," he says, and Cara rolls her eyes. All she'd wanted was a quiet drink. Before he can move she takes one of her agiels and jams it into his neck, calmly holding it in place until he crumples to the floor.

The tavern is silent. Cara stands up and casts her eye around the room, watching as every single person drops their gaze.

"Anyone else have something to say?"

Silence. She didn't think so.

She stalks out of the tavern, annoyed. Now she'll have to find a new place to drink.

\---

Cara's only been back in her room at the nearby inn for ten minutes when the door flies open with a bang and Kahlan storms in, looking like she's about a second from going into the Con Dar.

"Fighting at Ambrosio's, Cara? Really?"

Cara levels her gaze at Kahlan, meeting Kahlan's anger with coldness. "Is there a problem?"

"You could've killed that boy."

"I deliberately didn't." When Kahlan looks like she's about to chastise her again, Cara adds, "I was doing him a favour."

Kahlan's eyes are wide with disbelief. "A favour? You call nearly killing him a favour?"

"The kid has a grudge against the Mord'Sith. If he's going to go attacking them without a second thought, then that will get him killed. This way maybe he'll think twice."

"Or maybe he'll have more to prove." Kahlan looks at her, and after a moment Cara realises that she's disappointed. "Violence isn't the answer, Cara."

"Really? And how many people have you killed?"

"That's different. We're not fighting a war anymore, and some eighteen year-old boy is not the enemy," Kahlan says, and she goes to leave for a second before turning back, a rare steely quality in her gaze. "Find something productive to do with your time, Cara. I won't have you idly hanging around bars and picking fights."

Cara steps forward, one hand resting on her agiel. They fought side by side as equals, and now Kahlan's lording it over her? "Don't tell me what to do. I only answer to the Lord Rahl."

"I'm the Mother Confessor. In Aydindril, you answer to me."

\---

It doesn't take long for Cara to pinpoint her problem: she needs a mission, some direction in life. She's not made for staying in one place.

Also, she could do with a good kill.

\---

"I'm going to find Richard," Cara says, interrupting Kahlan in her Council chambers.

Kahlan looks up from the scroll she's reading. "He asked you not to accompany him," Kahlan says, but kindly, like she's letting down a child. "He wants to spend time with his sister."

"Plenty of people still want the Seeker dead," Cara says. "He needs me to protect him."

Leaning back in her chair, Kahlan says, "If I thought Richard was in any real danger I'd be with him myself." There's something almost pitying in her gaze, like she knows that Cara's clutching at straws.

"I'm not asking your permission," Cara says. "I'm only informing you of my plans as a courtesy." She turns to leave but in an instant Kahlan is out of her chair, a hand on Cara's arm to still her.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you yesterday," Kahlan says. "Stay."

She'll never be any good as a leader if she keeps apologising for laying down the law, Cara thinks. She stares down at where Kahlan's hand rests on her forearm until Kahlan gets the message and loosens her grip, but she's still standing a little too close to Cara, looking at her strangely.

"I'm not needed here," Cara says.

"You're not needed with Richard." Kahlan looks like the words pain her, but Cara would rather have the truth given to her straight. Kahlan tries again, saying, "You are needed here."

"By who?"

"By me."

Cara rolls her eyes; just yesterday Kahlan was acting like Cara was nothing more than a nuisance. "You've been so busy we've barely seen each other since we got here. Don't lie to try and spare my feelings."

"Don't pretend you don't have any." The words could be vicious coming from anyone but Kahlan; from Kahlan, they're unbearably gentle.

"I'm leaving," Cara says, but again Kahlan tries to stop her.

"Stay and work with me," Kahlan says, "here in the Council. I could use someone with your skills."

"You want me to be an executioner?"

"No," Kahlan says, aghast. "There aren't going to be any more executions here."

"What about cutting off thieves' hands? I could do that," Cara says, smirking. She knows what the response is going to be.

"Of course not. But you could join the Home Guard."

What use is an army in peacetime? Besides, Cara's tired of taking orders. "No thanks," she says. "I'll find my own way."

This time when she leaves, Kahlan doesn't try to stop her.

\---

And Cara doesn't really leave. She goes back to her room at the inn, packs her meagre belongings, and stays exactly where she is.

\---

It takes longer than she would have thought to find employment that doesn't make her want to jab someone with an agiel out of boredom. She ends up at a blacksmith's apprentice to a man who spends most of the day in a whiskey-induced sleep. Really, she's too old to be anybody's apprentice, but it's not a terrible way to spend her time--and anyway, everybody else in town either fears or hates her too much to give her work.

The blacksmith's suits her surprisingly well. She's surrounded by weapons, swords and knives lovingly made, and after a time of idleness it's satisfying to work her aggression out with heat and metal. Her work isn't very good, but she thinks that she shows promise.

After Cara's been there a week or so Kahlan shows up, just when Cara was starting to wonder whether Kahlan thought she'd actually left for good. It's after lunchtime, which means that Cedric, the blacksmith, has already dozed off, leaving Cara alone to guess how to proceed with the sword she's supposed to be forging.

It takes her a while to notice Kahlan, who lingers in the doorway. Cara glances up when she hears some slight noise, locking eyes with Kahlan.

"Have you been watching me?" she asks, sounding more disapproving than she feels, and Kahlan smiles.

"One of the townspeople told me you were working here now," Kahlan says. "I had to see it for myself. Why didn't you tell me that you stayed?"

"I knew you'd find out eventually." Cara looks down at the anvil, but she's too distracted to work. "We no longer share the same mission. There's no reason for our paths to cross anymore." When she looks back up at Kahlan, Cara realises she said something hurtful. All she intended was to tell the truth.

"What about friendship?" Kahlan asks. "Isn't that enough of a reason?"

Cara shrugs, vaguely annoyed that she made Kahlan look upset. "I don't object to your company," she says, and that seems to pacify Kahlan at least a little.

"I've missed you," Kahlan says quietly. Sometimes she comes out with these things that she must surely know that Cara won't repeat back to her, but she doesn't seem to mind Cara's silence.

Still, Cara tries to change the subject. "What about Richard? Don't you miss him?" She realises her question could be misconstrued as concern and adds, "I don't actually care, of course, but you're the kind of person who likes to talk about that sort of thing."

"Richard and I are fine," Kahlan says, but she sounds a little wistful. "We've been apart before."

"Out of necessity, not choice," Cara points out, but she doesn't know why she's pressing the matter. It's been a blessing not to have to witness the two of the them acting like lovesick teenagers anymore.

"We're _fine_." Kahlan's tone sounds final, but Cara's sure she isn't telling the truth. There's something there, but Cara knows it's not her business and she'll probably never find out for sure.

"If you say so." She shrugs, and Kahlan looks grateful that the matter's closed. For a moment they don't speak, the silence punctuated only by the intermittent snores of the blacksmith in the corner.

"I actually came here for a specific reason," Kahlan says after a while. "I don't know if you knew it's my birthday next week, but there's going to be a party. I'd love for you to come."

"A party?" Cara says, unconvinced. It's so strange that they have time for such frivolities now.

"Didn't the Mord'Sith ever have parties? It'll be fun." Kahlan pauses, then says, "You might want to wear something different though, just to blend in. I think some of people here are scared of you."

"As they should be," Cara says, and Kahlan laughs. "I'm not wearing a dress."

"I'm not asking you to. So you'll come?"

Cara looks at Kahlan's eager, hopeful expression, and finds she can't say no. "Fine," she says eventually. "But I'm not going to _dance_."

A wide smile spreads across Kahlan's face. "We'll see."

\---

The party is lavish, with music and laughter, opulent decorations all around the hall, and rich and poor alike in their finery. Cara only feels marginally ridiculous out of her usual Mord'Sith leathers. She found a nice shirt and some breeches, the only thing she could stand to wear to Kahlan's stupid birthday party, but even though she's in civilian clothes she still feels out of place there. Everyone still knows exactly who she is, and they all give her a wide berth. Apparently friendship with the Mother Confessor isn't enough to endear her to them; the stigma of being Mord'Sith runs too deep.

But it's nothing to Cara. It means that people leave her alone with her tankard of ale and no one expects her to join in with the festivities.

No one except Kahlan, who comes bounding up to her before long, inordinately happy. Her dress is one Cara's never seen before, and it matches the colour of her eyes.

"I'm so glad to see you here," Kahlan says, sitting down next to Cara. "Are you having fun?"

"It's not the _least_ amount of fun I've ever had," Cara replies, which is about the best compliment she can stretch to. Kahlan just laughs, not looking offended in the slightest, and she momentarily clasps Cara's hands in her own.

"Thank you for coming. I really mean it."

Slightly perturbed by the contact, Cara pulls her hands away and says, "Well, practically the whole town is here. Everywhere else is closed. Where was I supposed to go?"

All Kahlan does is smile in that infuriatingly knowing way and disappear into the throng. The music grows a little louder, the fiddler annoyingly unenthusiastic, and people begin to pair off and start dancing. Cara watches as Kahlan takes the hand of a man Cara doesn't know, probably someone from the Council, and she feels a pang almost like jealousy that she puts down to loyalty to Richard. It's only dancing, but it feels strange to see Kahlan in the arms of someone unfamiliar.

Her thoughts are disturbed when someone taps on her shoulder; she turns around and finds herself face to face with Zedd, of all people. She hadn't noticed him arrive.

"Good evening, Cara," he says, and all Cara can do is frown.

"No one told me you were coming." She probably ought to say she's pleased to see him.

"I never miss a good party," he says. "It's just a shame Richard couldn't make it."

"Is he all right? I knew he'd get himself hurt without me there to protect him."

"He's fine, just a little busy."

Cara nods vaguely, but she's distracted by the change in the music and is displeased to see that Kahlan has started dancing with someone else.

"You don't seem to be enjoying yourself as much as Kahlan is," Zedd remarks, and that's when Cara snaps.

"Why does everyone demand that I have fun? Isn't it enough that I showed up?"

Zedd looks a little taken aback. "Why _did_ you show up if you're so determined to be miserable?"

"I don't know," Cara says quietly. "Because Kahlan asked me to." Perhaps it's a sign that Cara's starting to recognise Kahlan as the authority figure now she's in Aydindril, and she's starting to switch her allegiance from Richard to Kahlan. But she wasn't ordered to the party, she was invited, and the only consequence of rejecting the request would be Kahlan's disappointment.

She frowns. Her behaviour ought to be governed by a few basic principles, that's how she was trained. She hates when her motives are unclear.

Zedd must sense her discomfort because he smiles and holds out his hand. "Dance with me, Cara. You know, I used to be quite the mover in my younger days." He does an embarrassing little shuffle as if to demonstrate.

"I'd rather be eaten by gars." She briefly misses her agiels, and wishes she hadn't left them back at the inn. Zedd laughs like she was joking and asks again, and just as Cara's contemplating the best exit strategy, one presents itself: Kahlan shows up at her side, takes her hand and pulls her onto the dancefloor.

"I knew I'd get you dancing," Kahlan says with a smirk.

"Kill me now." Cara most definitely is not a dancer, but still she doesn't resist when Kahlan leads her, and though she knows none of the steps she improvises well enough to keep up. The song is spirited and the movement makes her dizzy--or maybe she's had too much to drink.

It ought to be humiliating, a Mord'Sith led by a Confessor in a dance, but on another level where it's just her and Kahlan, nothing else, she finds she doesn't object. Kahlan is beaming, radiant, and even Cara finds herself laughing, if only at the absurdity of it all. The dance comes to an end, they stop, and for a moment Cara doesn't let go.

Kahlan leans in a little closer and says, "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Cara doesn't know what to say. In lieu of words she kisses Kahlan, pressing their lips together harshly, hands tangling in Kahlan's hair. It's only a few moments later when Kahlan opens her mouth under hers, pliant and responsive, that Cara remembers where she is, can feel the wrathful stares of everyone around them. Maybe she's only imagining the sounds of weapons being drawn, but she doesn't doubt the sentiment. The people love Kahlan and Cara knows they wouldn't stand for _this_. She abruptly pulls away.

"Oh," Kahlan says, her mouth slightly open in surprise. Before she can say anything else, Cara turns on her heel and, staring down anyone who dares look her way, she pushes through the crowd. She should have known it was foolish to come.

\---

Cara paces back and forth outside Kahlan's chambers; Kahlan has to return here eventually and Cara needs to apologise, or explain, even though she's lacking an explanation herself. She doesn't usually act so impulsively--or, she doesn't usually act so impulsively with someone like Kahlan. Kahlan isn't someone she just picked up in a tavern. This place must be driving her crazy, the peace and stability and utter lack of purpose. It wasn't other people's reactions that caused her to flee the party, it was her own. She feels like she's turning into someone she no longer knows. She's still wearing these ridiculous clothes, for one thing; she'd surely feel more like herself if she changed back into her familiar Mord'Sith leather.

Footsteps echo through the stone corridor and Cara turns, relieved to see that it's Kahlan.

"Hi," Kahlan says softly. She doesn't look angry, but Cara still feels in tumult over what happened earlier.

"I haven't been feeling myself lately," Cara says by way of explanation, squaring her shoulders in defiance. "I suspect witchcraft."

To her surprise Kahlan breaks into a smile, affectionate rather than mocking. "Or maybe you have feelings for me."

"Don't be absurd."

Kahlan takes a step closer and Cara actually feels her breath hitch, feels herself going lightheaded as Kahlan leans in and kisses her, softer than anyone's ever kissed her before.

It only lasts a second. Kahlan is still uncomfortably close when she says, "It's okay, Cara. I was surprised earlier, that's all. I didn't mind." She's looking at Cara like she's seeing her in a new light, and a quiet confidence settles in her expression. It's the same look she gets when she's taking on her Confessor duties, that absolute certainty of who she is and what is right.

Cara bites her lip, wondering how to explain that Kahlan disarms her, that she isn't used to ceding control like this. She feels weak, and she hates that; it goes against everything she's even known. So she does the only thing she can think to do and kisses Kahlan, roughly, the same way she'd kiss anyone, and Kahlan meets her with equal force. When they pull apart Kahlan is flushed, breathless.

"Come with me," Kahlan says. The doorhandle turns with a click under Kahlan's hand, and without a word Cara follows her down the steps into her chambers. A moment later and Kahlan's pulling something from a cabinet, placing it on a table next to Cara.

A Rada'Han.

She doesn't miss the significance. There's a hint of apprehension in Kahlan's eyes, but there's no denying the invitation.

Cara relaxes. This part she's good at.

\---

Early morning sunlight slants in through the window, waking Cara. Her eyes flutter open and take in the unfamiliar surroundings. Last night comes rushing back and Cara remembers where she is; when she moves slightly she hears a small noise behind her and realises that Kahlan, still sleeping, has her arm slung around Cara's waist.

It all happened so fast. Cara never thought Kahlan was that sort of person, but apparently both of them have changed since they got to Aydindril. Kahlan seems more in control; Cara, less so.

She's never been good at mornings after. As a rule she avoids them, but she remembers Kahlan whispering at her last night to stay, and apparently she complied. This bed is softer than the one back at the inn, that must be why--not that Cara needs a comfortable bed to sleep in, she's perfectly capable of sleeping on the hard earth or standing up or forgoing sleep altogether, but there's nothing wrong with a little indulgence now and then.

She glances around, wondering if she can escape without waking Kahlan, and that's when her eyes alight upon something glinting in the sunlight on the bedside table: a circle of silver, ornately carved. The Rada'Han. It ought to be around Kahlan's neck, that's where they left it last night--or did they? Cara can picture herself fastening it around Kahlan, but she can't tell if it's a memory or an invention and suddenly she can't say for sure whether Kahlan wore it at all.

She must have. If she hadn't Cara would be dead by now, Confessed the moment Kahlan reached climax. Without the Rada'Han to suppress Kahlan's powers, the only way that wouldn't happen is if--Cara can barely bring herself to even think it--they were in _love_.

The thought makes her want to impale herself on the nearest sharp object. Silently she slips out of bed, careful not to disturb Kahlan, and searches for her clothes. Of course, she wasn't wearing her usual Mord'Sith leather, the last remnant of her true identity, and she eyes her civilian clothes with the scorn they deserve before reluctantly slipping them on.

At the door she glances back at Kahlan's sleeping form, her peaceful expression, the smattering of freckles across her cheeks. Something tugs inside Cara, like a cord pulling her back, but she ignores it. When she turns away, the cord snaps.

\---

It only takes a short time for Cara to change back into her real clothes and pack the few belongings she owns. She's on the outskirts of town before the sun is even fully up, back out where the air is fresher and the people are few and far between. It's not quite where she belongs--she doesn't know if she belongs _anywhere_\--but she already feels more like herself. She appreciates the quiet out here, away from the incessant chatter of people who have nothing to say. The silence is broken only by occasional animal noises: birdsong, and the clatter of a horse's hooves.

And then a voice, calling her name.

Kahlan.

Cara stops, but she takes her time to turn around and face Kahlan, making sure she gives her her best glare. Kahlan dismounts from her horse, but although she takes a couple of steps closer she still keeps her distance.

"I'm going to find Richard," Cara says. "I saw Zedd this morning and he said that Richard could do with some help."

"Don't lie to me," Kahlan says, and Cara narrows her eyes.

"You can't read a Mord'Sith."

"I can read _you_."

Cara hesitates, caught between being ashamed and affronted. "It doesn't matter whether I'm lying," she says eventually. "I'm still going."

Kahlan gives Cara that disappointed look she so hates. "Why are you running away?"

"I'm not _running away_, I'm just _leaving_. There's no reason for me to stay here."

"There's no reason for you to go," Kahlan replies.

"There must be some banelings left lying around somewhere that need killing," Cara says. "Or there might be a war on somewhere." Maybe she could start one, Cara thinks, but she can picture Kahlan's reaction to that so she doesn't bother to voice the thought.

"Be glad that there isn't." Kahlan steps closer to Cara, and for a moment it looks like she's going to grab Cara's hand or something sentimental like that, but she thinks the better of it.

There's still something niggling at Cara and eventually she just asks. "The Rada'Han. You should've been wearing it this morning. Tell me you wore it last night."

At that Kahlan smiles like she's relieved, like suddenly everything makes sense. "Of course," she says. "I took it off last night because it was uncomfortable. You were asleep." She sweeps aside her hair to show a red mark on her neck where the metal must have rubbed against her skin. Cara feels a little of the tension leave her body.

"Good," she says, hoping she doesn't sound too relieved. "I'm still going."

"Don't." This time Kahlan does take Cara's hand, and for some reason Cara lets her. "If you're leaving because of last night..."

"I'm not," Cara says, which is somewhere between the truth and a lie. "I'm just... not built for this. I'm not built for staying in one place and living a normal life." She pauses, feeling horribly exposed for a moment, then adds, "It's boring. I'd rather be out killing people."

Kahlan laughs and squeezes Cara's hand a little. "Why don't you at least stay for a short time?" she says. "I'm not asking you for a relationship or, or a commitment. I'm not asking you for anything. Just stay for a bit until the next adventure comes along."

"I'd rather go and find one."

"Knowing our lives, it won't be long before one finds us."

For a long moment Cara looks at Kahlan, trying to imagine what it would be like to leave her here and strike out on her own. Eventually, she relents.

"Fine," she says, rolling her eyes for good measure. "But I'm going to go out and start killing people again as soon as the opportunity arises."

"Of course," Kahlan says, tugging Cara closer towards her. "I'd expect nothing less."


End file.
